


Sweet Summer Children

by Vivien



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 2, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 10:35:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18150743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivien/pseuds/Vivien
Summary: A brief, sweet glimpse of the Arya, Sansa, and Bran about a year before the book begins.





	Sweet Summer Children

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crossingwinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter/gifts).



[ ](https://smg.photobucket.com/user/vivien529/media/starks.png.html)

The only thing worse about being stuck inside a stuffy room with a bunch of stupid girls doing embroidery was being stuck _outside_ on this beautiful summer day with a bunch of stupid girls doing embroidery. Arya huffed out a sigh and stabbed her needle into the linen. She hated this. When Old Nan suggested they go outside and enjoy the fresh air, Arya thought it would make the interminable lessons more bearable, but the opposite was the case.

She could hear the clank of the training swords and the goading of Ser Cassel as her brothers practiced their fighting. She could hear birds singing, see them soaring in the blue sky. Even the smallfolk going about their daily chores were having a more pleasant time of it than she was.

Sansa hummed as she stitched and stitched away, murmuring softly with Jeyne and the other girls so as not to wake Old Nan, who had nodded off to sleep where she sat in the sunshine. Father said winter was coming, but Arya thought it was a far way off today.

“I wish I didn’t have to do this,” she grumbled.

“Oh, be quiet, Arya,” Sansa said, not missing a stitch. “You're just bad at it, so you don't like it.”

“I’d rather fight with Jon and Rob.”

Sansa and the other girls snickered, and not in a kindly way.

“You’re a girl,” said Jeyne, in an oh-so-superior voice. “You can’t.”

Arya set her hoop down and glanced at Old Nan, who was snoring lightly. She could run. The other girls wouldn’t chase her, and if Nan woke, she would be too slow to catch up, for a few moments, at least. She might get in a couple of arrows at the range before being noticed and caught… and brought to her mother who would frown with such disappointment.

“You’re such a child,” Sansa said, her voice lofty. Ever since her twelth name day, Sansa had taken on even more airs than Arya thought was possible, and the other girls followed suit. Jeyne whispered something to Meira and both girls looked at Arya and sniggered. 

“Shut up,” Arya snarled under her breath. 

“The baby says shut up,” Jeyne said in a mocking, high pitched voice, and then the girls all giggled and laughed.

Suddenly water showered them from above, and their mirth turned into shrieks.

“Bran!” squealed Sansa, standing up and sputtering. Arya looked up, and there was her brother, an empty pail in one hand and a huge grin on his face, as he spidered up the wall. 

“Don’t worry,” smiled Arya. “I’ll get him for that.” She clambered up the stone wall, climbing slowly but surely as Bran whooped and fled. She couldn’t climb as well as he could, but she wouldn’t have to for long. She wasn't even really trying to catch him, after all. As long as she was out of sight of Old Nan, who was awake now and calming down the wet, crying girls, Arya could forsake her embroidery for the rest of the afternoon.

She owed Bran one, for sure.


End file.
